What Killed the Cat
by sims
Summary: Remus Lupin would never have thought proving Sirius' innocence would involve Egypt, Gods, old myths, Mundungus Fletcher, Dementors, Bill Weasley, more Dementors, Bart Crouch and a very strange potion. Read and Review. Please. [complete]
1. Beginnings

What killed the cat

Remus Lupin opened his eyes reluctantly to the near-blinding light filtering through his curtains. He gave a low groan and peeled himself from the rough tangle of sheets while vowing never to touch alcohol again. But he knew that he didn't mean it because he gave the same half-hearted promise every Saturday. He hobbled to the bathroom where he splashed vast amounts of cold water onto his face to aid its trickling back along with the rest of his senses. It was a fairly set routine: hazardous to his health, careless and very un-Remus-like; yes, but still, it was a fairly set routine.

Every Friday he would waste away the day in menial tasks until he had worked up to a time late enough to get pissed (had he been Sirius _anytime_ would be a good time to get drunk but Remus, although aware of his failing self-control, liked to exercise a little more will-power than his friend at the very least.) Then he would head to the local, say hello to the regulars, and choose a sufficiently potent beverage (as a rule of thumb, if he remembered his name after a glass it was NOT strong enough.) He then spent the remainder of his time in the pub, rocking back and forth on his stool in a blissful state of ignorance.

The time it took for Remus to reminisce about that particular night he ha shaven, showered, brushed his teeth and changed his clothes. Some of Richard Ambling's story still lingering in his mind from the recital at the bar. Remus had little to no idea how he managed to get home after these quaint evenings. Perhaps fate liked him with a combination of odd flukes. Now that he came to think about it, it would not surprise him if one of Dumbledore's helpers had been sent to look after him, guiding him home drunk every Friday for a few sickle's worth.

Now that he no longer smelt of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey or had bloodshot eyes, he felt about ready to continue his avid search for a job. The past year he had spent cutting slowly into his savings, wishing he had some means by which to undo the revelation of his being a werewolf.

The town of Sullden was reasonably tolerant and the inhabitants acted with indifference towards him but he knew, whenever he looked in to their eyes or walked a little too close, that they acted out of both fear and pity. Worse still, though loath to admit it to himself, it hurt him. After all the years of having to deal with it, it still hurt him.

He made himself some toast and sat buttering it absent-mindedly while listening to a muggle radio, the previous house owners had left it behind and out of curiosity he had kept the thing. Then he heard a sudden loud bark from outside, a sudden _familiar_ loud bark.

It couldn't be, was it really? He hurried to the door and opened it. In the doorway sat a large black dog. Remus gave a soft chuckle as he stepped to the side, allowing the dog to pass through. When the "click" of the closing door sounded Sirius resumed human form.

"Why Moony, I hope you're not accustomed to taking in strays."

***

They must have sat there in two huge armchairs for hours, talking about the "old days: like withered men. Communication with and without words. "remember that time…" and then they would both burst into fits of laughter, Remus' more of a subdued chuckle while Sirius roared in his own interpretation of the action. The memories replayed in their mind as if the past 14-odd years had never happened.

A hush fell over their lively conversation as they both stumbled onto identical memories, ones that didn't involve dungbombs and dying teacher's hair purple.

And now that the mood had sobered.

"I'm guessing Dumbledore didn't send you here to reminisce." Remus said quietly.

"No, no he didn't." Sirius looked up from his lap and tried to find the words, willing himself to speak. He had hoped procrastinating with a couple "tales of old" would make this easier, it hadn't. Slowly he recited the events that had occurred at Hogwarts that year, trying to use words that did not hint at how inadequate he felt as Harry's godfather, Remus listened attentively nodding now and again until Sirius finished with the instructions Dumbledore had issued.

He should have known that Remus would pick up on his own insecurities despite his attempts to disguise them. 'Lousy bugger always did know how to read people' he though bitterly. Except he was not really bitter, and in a way he was happy to have Remus re-assuring him about the lack of control he held over the entire situation. He glanced up at the clock and realised how tired he was. He had spent the entire week tracking people down and retelling the horrific story over-and-over, taking heed not to dispel details or alter it. He had had to endure their company in turn: Arabella's stale cake, Chang's bloody-awful poetry, Croaker's vampire theories and, managing to lit a gash in the armour he had built himself, Mundungus' excited ranting about a new development in the origin of Dementors. A slight shudder ran up his spine at the thought.

Remus seemed to pick up on his fatigue and showed him to his room. While walking upstairs behind Remus he had mumbled, "You've already got 5 heightened senses because of the lycanthropy, it's not fair that you can read minds as well." Knowing Remus would hear it easily. Remus cracked a grin.

And then Sirius was alone in a dark room with only his thoughts and a freshly made bed for company.

***

Silence. It was thick but not suffocating. Sirius sat reading in the corner while Remus watched an army of ants make their way across the table. Remus could not help but think a slight reversal in roles had taken place, his chin resting on his hand, elbow on table. Usually he would be the one to immerse himself in books while Sirius ran around hyper-actively, almost setting things on fire. But he was brooding and brooding was something he did well.

More ants, following each other in a neat little line.

To be fair though, Sirius was not actually reading. He made a pretty good job of pretending, turning the pages every now and then but he forgot to move his eyes and so his gaze bore into the centre of the page - strong enough to burn a hole though it.

There was a faint tapping on glass and his head snapped up, his hand moving on instinct towards the pocket where he kept his wand, but then he saw the owl that hovered by the unopened window. As he got up and walked to it he glanced at Sirius - he too had focussed his attention on the owl and Remus noted the hand lingering over his pocket. 'Must've got himself a wand,' he thought as he untied the parchment from the brown owl's leg and rolled it out. It bore the official Hogwarts seal and Remus began to read the letter under Sirius' steady gaze.

'_Dear Remus,_

I trust that by now Sirius has fully explained recent events and is (under my instructions) residing at your house. I fear that at the moment are options are limited to waiting for some of Voldemort's first moves, gathering allies and making careful plans as we do. However, it is neither of these things that I have in mind for you in wake of recent events. I need you to find and carry out a way of clearing Sirius' name. I fear that in his current position he cannot be of full assistance to us. I know that what I ask of you is a lot and that it will not be easy to achieve but I am sure that neither of these facts will prevent you from reaching your goal.

Yours, Albus Dumbledore'

Remus re-read the letter several times before sitting back down on the wooden chair. Sirius' eyebrows were raised inquisitively and every second Remus did not explain was a second they continued ascension, until they were in danger of disappearing above his hairline.

"Letter from Dumbledore, wants me to try and clear your name,"

"Oh." A strange expression flitted across Sirius' face; "Good luck." He grinned, Remus grinned back and they were there for a few moments like statues, bonny and blithe.

Remus sat thinking and nothing else. Then he took from the top drawer of his desk a sheet of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink. The faint scratching of quill-on-parchment could be heard all night.


	2. Ideas

What killed the cat

Part 2

Remus let out a frustrated sigh, quill in hand and hand resting on the wooden desk. He had been thinking on paper, ideas neatly jotted down and then scrutinised and repaired, trying to make them fool-proof in every possible way. But each thread came to an abrupt end. He knew he would find a way, years of transforming Sirius unmasked enthusiasm into a plan that would actually work during the Marauder's 'reign of havoc' had proved brilliant practise, but nothing happened fast enough. 13 years, _thirteen years_, damnit.

It was Friday today. He was definitely NOT going to the local pub as he did almost religiously. He did not need a calendar to know it was to be the night of the full moon. Tonight he would go into the cellar, checking the wards and charms that were to contain him meticulously before locking the door. And then there would be pain; coursing through him as the wolf who's blood polluted his own came alive. And then he would be stripped of rational thought, _animal_. It had come to mean such a dirty thing to him; the word barely escaped his mouth when he wanted to say it.

At some point in the night he had surrounded himself with books, looking things up in his futile attempts to construct a plan with which to clear Sirius' name. Now they loomed in stacks – blocking the sunlight. From somewhere beyond the towers came a voice.

"Oi, Remus! Are you utterly devoid of manners or what? Unless me memory fails me, its the host who makes breakfast, not the guest." Remus thought the comment had more to do with Sirius' culinary skills - or lack thereof - then it did with etiquette. 

And so they sat there, after eating a very large breakfast. Sirius wondering how Harry was and Remus perplexed by Sirius' ability to eat almost 3-times as much as he could.

"Full moon tonight." Commented Sirius absently. Remus merely nodded, surpressing the _'I know.'_

"I expect you'll be transforming in that sturdy cellar of yours." '_How did he know about that?'_ Remus 'mmhmmed' '_And why hasn't he noticed that bit of bacon dangling between his teeth? It's the size of a bloody blue whale.'_

"And of course I'll be there as Padfoot." Remus had been busy locating the toothpicks for Sirius when he heard the comment

"What?"

"You know? Padfoot? Black dog, about this high."

"Yes, I know _that,_" He sounded exasperated. The bacon moved while Sirius talked, it was irritating.

"My being there has never bothered you before…"

"No." Remus tried to sound forceful but was growing hoarse. '_Where are those God damned toothpicks?' _

"You can't expect me to just sit here while I know you're down there…"

Remus searched frantically for a change in subject. '_Aha!'_

"So, how are Arabella and Mundungus?" Sirius paled visibly. Third drawer from the cooker, stored next to the aluminium foil and plastic cutlery the toothpicks lay – relieved at Remus' distraction.

"Fine." Remus thought the word spoke volumes. They were fine but Sirius obviously was not. And then he remembered, Mundungus' inexplicable fascination with Dementors. Dementors, Azkaban, 13 years, _thirteen years_, damnit. '_Quick, diffuse the situation'_

"I might hurt you." Sirius seemed relieved at the change of subject, although there was a definite gleam of obstinance in his eye.

"No you wouldn't, I'd make sure of it." And Remus was compelled to say yes, because he felt he owed it to Sirius after making the Dementor slip.

"Well, as long as you're on top of things I'm sure _nothing_ will go wrong." '_Even through the sarcasm he can tell you're saying yes. Situation: Diffused. Now, about that toothpick.'_

In the end Remus was not left wondering about what had happened at Mundungus' house, Sirius told him.

"He says they might have found out where they originated from." Sirius said thickly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"And?" Remus asked.

"Well, they think they know the magics that were involved in making the Dementors."

"_Making_?"

Sirius shrugged, "That's what I thought, then I realised, why not?"

"Why is it so important?"

"Well, it might result in them finding a way to reverse the effects of the Kiss." Remus froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. "But if the death ea-"

"I know. But Mundungus is running a tight operation. Personally I can't see why anyone would want those souls back."

"Crouch." Remus was staring off into space blankly.

"You what?"

"Crouch, Barty Crouch. If we get him back we can prove Wormtail's still alive and thus your innocence."

There was a silence as Sirius thought through this.

"Its all completely hypothetical of course." The hope in Sirius' voice was slight but present. Remus almost smiled at it, '_welcome back Sirius'._

***

Mundungus Fletcher was adding a few sheets of parchment to the precariously balanced stacks on his desk when he heard a light knocking on his door. "Come in!" he bellowed while scribbling something down. Remus walked in slowly, trying not to disturb the various odds and ends that littered the floor.

"Ah, Remus! It's good to see you again."

"Hello Mundungus." He replied. Mundungus was a short man with broad shoulders, a large bushy moustache and grey hair. He started rummaging around until he pulled out a piece of parchment.

"I wasn't expecting you till Monday." He said, brandishing the letter Remus had written.

"It is Monday." Mundungus furrowed his brow and counted under his breath.

"Yes! You're right. Please, take a seat." Remus complied. "So, you need my help getting him in the clear."

"Yes."

"What a mess, what a mess indeed." Remus thought it a little rich with Mundungus' office in its present state but remained silent. Mundungus had again closed the gap between his eyebrows. "Well, you of course realise that strictly speaking I can't help you as this is all confidential ministry business." As he said it he slid a piece of parchment towards Remus. Remus picked it up and skimmed over it.

"Ah well." He said in mock disappointment, "Worth a try at the very least. Thankyou for you time." He bid Mundungus goodbye and stepped out of the office. Outside the secretary of 'Mr. Mud' (as he was often referred to, much to his dismay) was sitting, curiosity written all over her pointy face. At once he knew the small performance inside the office had been entirely for her benefit. He left with a slight smile playing on his lips.

***

The sheet was a carefully compiled list of references. Name, dates and other such things were recorded with a brief description of their significance all in neat blue ink. Remus was arched over it, his hand moved to the back of his neck to try and ease the pain that had settled there after a few nights past's transformation. Padfoot's presence had been a relief of sorts and Remus silently thanked him for it. Right now he was unsure of what to do. As with many fields of magic, a lot was unknown about the inner workings ad the process of the Dementors' Kiss was no exception. In fact the new information, so highly prized, was actually just a mention about their existence in an ancient account in a tomb from a time when people thought the Dementors had not emerged. He read the tomb inscription again, 

'_It was about the time when Nephtys, mother of Anubis, fell in love with Osiris. The Dark Army travelled South along the River Nile towards Thebes and anyone who did not flee was left soulless'_

Remus' knowledge of Ancient Egyptian magic was far from accurate, and the inscription recorded was just a small part of what was in the tomb. After much deliberating he decided he needed to go to the desert region himself. Sirius could take after himself; he was afterall a grown man. Sirius chose that exact moment to enter, his hand was stuck inside a jar and he was straining to get it off. _'Impeccable timing'_

"What happened?" Remus was not sure he wanted to know.

"I was trying to get a biscuit but my hand got stuck inside and I can't get the _damn thing off"_

Remus got up and strode to Sirius' side.

"It's got an Unbreakable Charm on it - here I'll counter it." Remus drew his wand and muttered something at the jar. As soon as he'd said it Sirius hit it against the wall, a shower of glass and crumbs followed.

"All that for some ruddy digestive! Where do you keep the proper stuff?"

"You're cleaning that up, you know." Sirius drew out his wand as well and repaired the jar before sweeping up the mess.

"There, good as new." He said, holding up the jar for Remus's inspection. Remus chose not to comment, instead smiling a little. Perhaps "grown man" wasn't the best term to describe Sirius.

***


	3. To Egypt!

What killed the cat

Third part

The air in Egypt was different. It was warm and moist, slightly stifling at times. He had left Sirius alone that morning, before disapparating to the border he had been tempted to back-out, not sure if leaving Sirius in his immaculate house unaccompanied was a good idea but it had been too late to back out as that morning he had sent a progress report to Dumbledore detailing the beginnings of his plan. 

He now stood in front of the tomb who's inscription had caused so much excitement (despite the ministry's efforts to keep it all secret, the news had somehow leaked out.) There was not a witch or wizard in England who hadn't heard of the discovery, except perhaps Harry, stuck with the Dursleys. It was then that he remembered why he was doing this and so it was with newfound determination that he stepped over the threshold.

A thick blanket of dust covered the entire tomb – property of an Egyptian Priest long since deceased - it smelt like old books, a musty unshakeable scent that reminded Remus of the library at Hogwarts. His first few steps were tentative but then he recalled the Curse-breakers who had already taken down any harmful wards (and removed the valuable while they were at it.) He glanced around, he hadn't planned much further than this, his eagerness to get t the tomb had prevented him from it as he'd had to pull quite a few strings and call in a couple of favours to gain entrance, all those years of doing nothing were over now. He began copying down some carvings, consulting various books that had been packed in his briefcase as he went. 

He left the tomb a little enlightened although still nowhere near obtaining his goal. He now had vast background knowledge on a few select Gods as well as a small detail he'd rather forget. The priest had actually been kissed, hence the tomb inscriptions, and then people from his village had killed him because they were "filled with pity for the soulless wanderer". He gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. He wondered what part "the Dark Army" played in local folklore and made a mental note to follow it up.

The follow-up occurred quicker than he had anticipated. The area in which he was walking (if you would call it walking; it was more of a stumble, stride, slip back to paces because of sloping sand, repeat) was swarming with tourists, the majority of which were muggles. He had put a cooling charm on his cloak to lessen the strain on himself and now they were regarding him and his peculiar ensemble – a long dark shabby cloak covering a thick robe – oddly. Remus had not prepared for such eventualities as suspicious muggles and tried to make a hasty escape by backing behind a half-collapsed wall, only to find himself tripping over one of the local village's inhabitants. The dark-skinned girl smiled sweetly at him, apparently cooling off in the shade.

"You want souvenir?" She said, gesturing to some crude looking statues in a box. He shook his head, not wanting to test his Egyptian at that particular moment in time. He was about to go find a different deserted spot from which he could disapparate when the girl cried out. He spun round in alarm to face her again.

"You can't leave shade, sun too hot for you." She pointed to the Sky where the Sun blazed in agreement. "You burn."

Remus, although he hated to admit it, saw the logic in that statement. His skin was extremely pale and would probably have caught fire had he not lathered on superfluous amounts of sun-cream on. He sat down in the shade behind the wall, putting as much distance between himself and the Egyptian girl as possible. Things were not going to plan. Despite his not-so-subtle hint, the Egyptian girl persisted in trying to strike up a conversation, Remus thought the least he could do was relieve her of the struggle she had with English. She was mildly surprised at his fluent Egyptian but did not let such trivialities break her stride as she rambled on. Remus, through some manoeuvring questions; managed to coax her into talking about the folklore he was interested in hearing about.

"Oh, the Dark Army. It was made by the God Set."

"Why?" He asked, suddenly eager (not to be confused with "aeger", Latin for "sick") She blushed a little but continued nevertheless.

"His wife Nephtys had fallen in love with his brother Osiris-" Remus recalled the inscription from the tomb "-he was jealous because he still loved her. He made the Dark Army with her in mind. Just as she had stolen his heart with a kiss, the Army stole people's souls with a kiss." She smiled again. Remus frowned thoughtfully.

"I thought Osiris was married to Isis."

"He was, it did not mean Nephtys could not love him though. When Set killed Osiris, Isis and Nephtys lamentations were so strong they brought him back to life. You can imagine how furious Set was of course." Remus nodded. The Sun no longer sat high in the sky. He looked at the girl, unable to communicate his gratitude, how helpful she had been. He knew Muggle-Wizard interactions were failing a little but he had no idea they were this bad. The fact that the origin of the Dementors could have been found ages ago, just by asking was, to put it bluntly, shameful. He looked at the box of vulgar ornaments and without hesitation bought them, all 32.

***

Sirius was regarding his hands with something akin to fascination, turning them over to take note of the lines and wrinkles, the odd unaccounted for mark and parchment-cut. Buckbeak was nudging a deflated football about the garden creating a rustling sound (it had taken a lot in the way of charms to hide her) and he thought he heard the wind sigh. He had the radio on, too, he was not sure if he liked the Muggle music it emitted but made no attempt to re-tune it, he was not listening anyway. The faint smell of burnt toast lingered in the air, a remnant of that morning's cookery attempt. Remus entered then, it came as something of a relief to Sirius who knew the man to be a perfect epitome of punctuality. He had expected Remus' arrival at 7pm, he thought he would have something to stain Remus' record with at 7:02, 3 minutes later he was slightly curious at the hold-up and at 7:30pm he was on the verge of panic - his hands had become a distraction.

"What happened?" Asked Sirius, he noticed the faintest hint of sourness in Remus' expression - an ordinary someone would not have seen it - reading Remus was a complicated process, one he had yet to master but still had control over.

There was a pause.

"The people at the border wouldn't let me pass straight away; they thought I was smuggling cursed objects." Sirius then saw the box of vulgar statuettes and wondered how he had over-looked it. "I had to stand there while they checked them for curses and then poked, prodded and inspected the things." Sirius nodded.

"…Why didn't you just leave them behind?"

"I offered to! It just made them more paranoid. Honestly Sirius, do I look _shifty_ to you?" Sirius couldn't tell if the question was rhetorical.

"Er, you are a little pale…" 

Of course when Remus wanted to he could make himself easier to read.

If looks could kill.

***

Remus found himself pouring over books for hours on end, attempting to ascertain as much knowledge on the _Ancient Legends_ as possible while gathering Wizard perspective on the Muggle beliefs. For a moment he wished he had paid more attention during History of Magic, but such a task was as easy as forgetting to breathe. Finally, after countless hours spent hunched over dusty editions, he felt he needed to talk to someone who could answer his questions, but from a wizard POV. 

Remus liked Bill Weasley from the moment he met him. The combination of an uninvited entry and a hoard of questions on knowledge Remus assumed Bill had could have put others in bad spirits but Bill remained amiable throughout the intrusion.

"Good to meet you at last! Ron's been going on and on about you since you taught in his third year at Hogwarts"

"All good, I hope." Bill smiled but Remus could not help but notice his lack of response on the matter.

"So, what can I do you for?" Bill chirped.

"I was hoping you could enlighten me on some aspects of Egyptian mythology. I understand of course if you're busy and that your current employment in Gringotts doesn't fully involve the legends" Remus replied.

"Well, sometimes I get time to read a few tomb walls in-between raiding, so what exactly are you interested in?"

"Pretty much what everyone else is interested in at the moment! The connection between Egypt and the Dementors" His eyes flicked briefly to a copy of the daily Prophet on Bill's desk. "I was wondering if you could divulge me with some information on the Egyptian Gods Isis, Nephtys, Set and Osiris in particular." Bill drummed his fingers idly on his desk for a moment before beginning.

"Well, first of all the weren't Gods, just wizards who used their power to make muggles believe they were. In a way the Egyptian people were deceived - I think this is a little harsh since their society's structure owed a lot to the magic and a lot of daily life was dictated by the beliefs."

"Secondly I think they were siblings but as was common in Egyptian hierarchy, they married. Isis was wed to Osiris and Set to Nephtys. Set was jealous of his brother's talent and finally it grew too much for Set as he tried to kill Osiris by trapping him in a coffin. Isis found the coffin at sea and brought Osiris back to life. She and her husband laid low away from Set. Meanwhile Nephtys was no longer in love with Set and so left to find her sister. When Set discovered Osiris again he ripped his brother's body to shreds and dispersed the pieces in the Ocean. Isis and Nephtys brought him back to life again in what was possibly the first mummification but it was not long before he retreated into the underworld. Set was finally killed by Osiris' son Horus, who waited to avenge his father's murder." Bill smiled again.

"You say Isis brought Osiris back to life, what do you mean" Remus asked, puzzled by the prospect of resurrection.

"Well, when they say he 'died' in the coffin it's hard to tell what is meant, the words are often symbolic. I think 'dead' refers to Osiris in a coma due to a lack of oxygen but it could mean anything. Again, I've only read snippets from tombs and pieced the rest together." Bill gave an animated shrug.

"Have you ever considered becoming a teacher?" Bill chuckled.

"Its not really my kind of thing, but I'd be surprised if I wasn't a little good at it after all those times I was forced to explain things to Charlie while he was at Hogwarts." Remus thanked Bill and stood up to leave when bill said unexpectedly, "If I might ask a question Mr. Lupin, you said when you came in that you wanted to talk about the link between Dementors and Egypt, am I right in thinking that the two are also connected with those four wizards as well?" Remus smiled evasively and made for the doorknob. Bill shook his head incredulous, "Who do you know that the ministry doesn't, or more amazingly who the Daily Prophet doesn't?!" Remus thought his own feelings were similar but said his 'goodbye' again before leaving.

***

Disclaimer: (Also applicable to the two previous chapters) The Harry Potter universe (all characters, names, places, products etc.) are the property of JK Rowling and her publishers, I'm just borrowing them, please refrain from sueing.

A/N: God, I feel so _stupid_. Before posting this I wrote it all by hand, the first story I've ever attempted with a plan, I managed to dump the plan and write a load of codswollup. Now I feel guilty because some people (namely the very very cool people who reviewed) actually like earlier installments and are going to be let down with the final parts sigh I don't get too deep in Ancient Egyptan mythology, I'm really dreading the ending to this thing though, because when I type it up its going to hit me just how _odd_ it is. Any spellin'/grammma mistakes r de fault of de FIFA World Cup. Please click that little button now and review…


	4. Potion

What killed the cat

Fourth part

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe (all characters, names, places, products etc.) are the property of JK Rowling and her publishers, I'm just borrowing them, please refrain from sueing.

In the next few days Remus ascertained fragments of knowledge using the reference sheet from Mr. Mud, the most useful being two spells that could be used to summon Dementors. Remus managed to rule out the first method early on; it contained a ritual sacrifice and Remus was not sure where he could find an abundance of virgins who were willing to be sacrificed, had he been prior-Azkaban-Sirius he probably would have _known_ several, but that's a different story.

While he was eating breakfast Sirius asked him about his progress. Remus had to admit he found it to be an awkward question because he could not transfer the weeks of work into more than a few sentences but forced himself to sound casual as he mentioned he had found two spells to summon certain Dementors. 

"But I can't use them because one contains virgin sacrifice and the other is a potion that, unless I'm to acquire brewing skills to match Snape's overnight, I'll never be able to make," said Remus, sighing in a resigned way. 

"Hmmm," remarked Sirius, scratching the stubble that had begun to grow on his chin. Suddenly Sirius' expression became hopeful. "What about Hermione!" he said enthusiastically.

"What _about_ Hermione?" Remus replied while spooning porridge into his mouth.

"I'm sure she would be happy to help." He said, grinning so much that Remus thought his face would never return to normal. 

Remus sat there for a few seconds trying to work out what Sirius was hinting at. Then his eyes grew wide as the rest of his face worked with it to form an expression of horror. "For you even to suggest, I - I would never do that, you're proven innocence is important but, but, how could you even think such a thing? She's one of Harry's best friends, and even if she wasn't I would never do that!" he stated angrily, viewing Sirius with distaste.

Sirius was slightly taken aback by the outburst, "Why not? You might have forgotten while you were lost in the piles of books on your desk or visiting Egypt that there is a _war_ going on but _I_ haven't and neither, I'm sure, has Dumbledore! It isn't a matter of getting all the help we can get, but a matter of _needing_ it, and she would be happy to offer assistance," Sirius replied.

For Remus, the words coming out of Sirius were brutal. He mouthed silently at Sirius expression which might have been set in stone and then in a slow pace that sounded strained said, "I don't think I could live with it."

Sirius wanted to roll his eyes, everyone held a certain amount of pride, but Remus refusing help from someone just because they were a child seemed stupid to him. "If this war continues every child out there will lose their youth. This potion is the kind of thing that could set us on the edge, put _us_ on the winning side, its not just about me being innocent. And besides without it I can't protect Harry properly, it's the kind of thing she would understand!" Sirius said, in an equally even pace. He picked up his glass of pumpkin juice and took a swig, he swirled the liquid round his mouth.

Remus felt flustered, Sirius was formidable when he had set himself a goal, and this was one he was determined to reach. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something to say in response. "I can't believe this is you talking…" He gave a short bitter laugh, "I'm not even sure if she's a vir-" it was at this point that something clicked inside Remus' head.* Sirius had said 'this _potion._' 

Sirius choked on his pumpkin juice. He couldn't decide between looking offended at Remus thinking that he'd suggested the ceremonial killing of a young girl or amused at Remus' embarrassed expression. In the end he felt sad at Remus' lack of faith in him and was reminded fleetingly of a time when he had felt a similar distrust of Remus when they were choosing a secret keeper for Lily and James. He grimaced at the memory. 

"So, you - er - think Hermione would be able to help me brew this potion?" Remus asked tentatively.

Sirius smiled at his plate. "Yeah, yeah I do. It's her or Snape, either way I reckon Dumbledore'll support your decision, he's always eager to increase his student's skill," Sirius spoke in a very quiet voice. 

Remus nodded. He secretly thought to ask Hermione for help would destroy the teacher-student relationship. It hurt him, in a way, to have such thoughts because while part of him _believed_ he would teach again at Hogwarts, the rest of him _knew_ he would not.

-=-

He got in touch with Dumbledore by owl, explaining his new development and the problems faced with practising the two spells. The return owl surprised him greatly. He had expected, despite what Sirius said, for Dumbledore to refer him to Snape. Instead he found himself standing in an empty Hogwarts classroom, a few weeks into the Summer holidays with a cauldron of ingredients on a desk in front of him and Hermione donning Muggle clothes and a tone that reminded him of Transfiguration lessons on Tuesdays. He felt guilty because he was taking up her Summer holidays and stupid because he was learning Potions from someone half his age. In the corner of the dusty room Sirius and Harry were talking. 

Dumbledore had made the arrangements. Remus wondered how and then he remembered that Dumbledore _knew_ people - not just anyone - these were the kind of people that could get stuff done.

"So, it really isn't that difficult at all, as long as you get the timing right." Hermione commented, it was the end of a mammoth speech, one which Remus only caught snippets of.

"Yes," he replied with a light nod of the head, "absolutely." He felt like a child again, trying to force himself out of his reverie back into attentiveness; were all teachers such bad students?

Hermione wasn't told why they were making the potion, nor was anyone else for that matter although Remus suspected Dumbledore had contacted Snape for most of the ingredients which would have led to suspicions about what they were doing from the slimy-haired-git. Harry seemed happy in his state of ignorance, talking animatedly with Sirius. At that moment in time the Dursley's thought he was at Mrs. Figg's house undergoing slow torture in the form of stale cake, the idea to tell them this so he could meet with his godfather was a brain-child of Sirius' after he heard that Arabella only lived a few houses down from Harry.

Hermione said they would make the Dementor summoning potion the next day because it was more potent if prepared at around the same time as the last victim of the Dementor-to-be-summoned was Kissed. Remus nodded in feigned understanding. 

He had a plan now; the potion would be made, he would drink it and then, when the Dementor arrived, it was just a matter of performing an exorcism-like spell that would banish Crouch's soul which would return to his body in St. Mungo's. Then the medi-wizards would crowd around with bemused expressions on their faces wondering how the victim of a Dementor's Kiss could regain their soul. Crouch would be handed over for a trial and it would emerge that Wormtail, the murder for whom Sirius served part of his sentence, was still alive. 

Perfect, except it was not _actually_ perfect. Their were so many wrinkles in his scheme that needed to be smoothed out; a way of making sure only Crouch's soul was expelled, a way of getting the summoning potion to wear off (lest he should be followed around by an extra shadow for the rest of his life), a way of making sure the medi-wizards handed Crouch over to the authorities instead of to the Dementors and a way of keeping the death-eaters away from the two linked spells (the Dementor summoning and then soul restoration) that Remus had created.

But other then all of that everything was fine, and the time to use the potion was ample. Although the potion had to be made at a certain time of day, it could be drunk on the whim of the maker, so Remus could use it when all the small problems had been worked out, and there was the tiny matter of getting his soul restoration incantation to work not to mention the questions that would be asked…

After mulling it over for a couple of minutes Remus felt a headache coming on and decided to abandon the subject. Instead (with subtle encouragement from Harry) he inquired of Hermione a few questions about Viktor Krum who he she's apparently met (and then some) the previous year. The answers to these were no doubt later recorded in an OWL to Ron. Remus couldn't help but think that in that way he had contributed to a cause as important as clearing Sirius' name. 

-=-

A/N: Thankyou for the instant ego-boosters of reviews you give! Especially those from Aqua Child, Elektra and Admiral Albia. Thanks again, I've got the fic on a new and improved track, it shouldn't be too long till we reach the end. Anyway, if you've read then **_REVIEW!_**

* I don't think there's actually any doubt of Hermione's virginity, I just wanted to use the line so that both became aware that they were arguing for different things.


	5. Red silk

What killed the cat

Part 5

The potion swirled in the cauldron, a yellow-orange iridescence that had taken four hours of tenuous work to make. It was brewed perfectly, the kind of thing Snape would avoid looking at to get out of awarding points to Gryffindor. The three of them were huddled around it, Harry had gone to the kitchen to get something to drink.

"All done," Hermione said with a tired but triumphant smile. "Could you pass me that vial please, Sirius?" she added, momentarily taking her eyes off of the concoction to point to a small glass container. He nodded and passed it to her. Later they would call this the pivotal moment on which everything hung. 

Her hand, almost trembling with excitement, had managed to stir and add ingredients with complete diligence throughout the brewing process, not a slip or wrong movement could be found anywhere. So why was it that the vial dropped, sending small shards of glass all across the classroom floor, lodging themselves partially into Sirius' right leg? 

Hermione gave a small curse when it happened, Remus held out an empty glass for her to use instead, ignoring her remark pointedly. She ladled it in while muttering a profuse apology, seemingly embarrassed. She had just brewed a potion that most full-grown wizards (including himself) could not and yet she was _embarrassed_. He almost laughed.

She put the glass on a desk and with Remus' help started clearing up. Sirius was still trying to coax a slither of the transparent substance from his leg, a steady drip of blood rolled down it. He didn't seem to notice, the pain was dull compared to the things he had felt before. 

The hours had been spent in relative silence, Hermione asking for a little help every now and again. Now, when it was done, the entire room seemed to let out a breath of relief. It was as if they had been in black and white, and only now they had returned to colour.

Harry walked in then. 

"The potions done." Sirius said, turning at the sound of the door.

"Hmmm." A pause. "What happened to your leg?" Harry asked while taking a seat at a desk. Hermione went across the room to throw away some extra pieces or dragon's liver.

"It doesn't matter," Sirius replied, "Did you get your drink?" He inquired, returning his attention to the piece of glass.

His expression became slightly disappointed. "There wasn't anyone there," he remarked, sounding slightly confused. 

"Oh well," Remus - fighting back a yawn while wiping down a surface.

"I might as well not have gone down though, looks like we had some here all the while…" It was exactly four seconds before they cottoned on to what he was saying. Sirius looked sharply up from his bleeding leg, Remus abandoned the Quick-Cleaning Cloth and Hermione (who had been loath to touch the slimy dragon's liver and so had held her plate over the bin and watch it slide slowly into it) turned to shout 'No!' at Harry. All three of them were too late.

Harry held the potion up to his lips and took a sip. He screwed up his face, "This pumpkin juice tastes a bit odd…what?" he said, looking at the horror on their faces.

"Harry, that's the potion," said Remus quietly, how long would it take for the Dementor to arrive? A looming dark shadow cut off his thoughts. They were back to monochrome, the air in the room became chilled and silent apart from the strained breathing of Harry. Hermione stood apoplectic with fear staring wide eyed by the door at the figure which had appeared, painfully aware that it was closest to her. Sirius had closed his eyes, straining against some memory that no one else could see and Harry too seemed to lapse slowly into the past. The room became suddenly claustrophobic, the plate of dragon's liver fell to the ground with a resounding shatter.

There was no time to think, Remus shouted in the midst of pale faces about him, "Animum Chrouchis Emisisti!" and then "Expecto Patronum" in quick succession. First a jet of luminous purple light shot from his wand, and seemed to be absorbed by the Dementor, making the black robes momentarily purple. A silver mist followed, it hovered round the Dementor giving it an almost eerie glow. It stood firmly in place, slowly edging forward as the mist began to lighten. Remus tried not to panic, to notice the subtle manoeuvres of the Dementor towards Harry despite the Patronus that encircled it. 

Harry began to choke, reaching for his wand to try and cast his own patronus, unaware that Remus had already endeavoured to banish the statuesque form towering above his fallen body. Sirius seemed to writhe on the floor across the room only Hermione and Remus could still stand. Harry lifted his trembling hand to it but just then his eyes caught sight of what was under the hood from his position on the floor. The almost translucent, wrinkled and scabby skin of the Dementor repulsed him, cold and disgusted he was unable to stop his gut from wrenching compulsively. Instead of the sickly smelling porridge-like substance he'd been expecting he vomited a vibrant orange-yellow liquid - all that was left of the potion.

At once the Dementor retreated from the silver light. Sirius disapparated, hoping that the potion rendered the Dementor unable to sense him as an Azkaban escapee. Hermione stood shuddering in the corner of the room, Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and levered himself up. He walked shakily towards her along with Remus. Her eyes looked oddly glassy and her skin was an odd blue-ish colour.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. She stooped shaking but her breathing continued to be laboured as she nodded vigorously, resulting in a light-headed feeling and an honest belief that the floor was vibrating on her part.

"I feel a bit weird, I'm sure it'll wear off soon," she said with a small smile, gratefully accepting a small piece of chocolate from Remus.

Remus began casting cleaning spells around the room, getting rid of the dragon's liver and pieces of shattered china around the bin. It was half an hour before Sirius returned, he was expecting some kind of search party and so came in the form of Padfoot, thankfully the Ministry had not been alerted (which lead Sirius to ponder how the Dementor would have told the officials if it had sensed him.) There was a moment when they all just stood there, unsure of what to do. And then there was a moment when Remus knew what had to be done, despite his reluctance. Remus hated going to St. Mungo's.

-=-

Everything there was so very _white_, it made your eyes hurt as soon as you entered the building. The whole place stank of disinfectant potions and there was general air of pity lining the faces of the medi-wizards who worked there, because if you were in St. Mungo's then something was wrong. Everything there seemed so sterile and untouchable, clean and dirty at the same time because of all those sick people lying in beds with their pale and gaunt faces, staring at the endless white of the ceiling and wondering just how high it was. Some of them couldn't turn their heads so they never saw the walls, or the other bodies either side of them in neat, orderly rows; some of the patients were put into isolation or padded rooms or cast with charms to disable them so that they couldn't hurt themselves. 

Everything there was still and quiet, even in the most frantic cases the medi-wizards took on an unnatural calm in the face of death; their hands gloved in a glistening substance to keep them clean, masks over their identical faces so that all you could see was their eyes. He only ever met ones with sad eyes, big and wide and sympathetic in a way that made him feel patronised. He knew that all medi-wizards weren't like that, it was just the way they viewed him because they _knew_.

His first visit had been the worst. His father had burst through the double doors, cradling his limp form in his arms, blood spilling from the wound on his shoulder while his mother sobbed desperately, almost as if she could feel the pain for him, gasping for breath with which to cry out his name over and over in anguish. He would never forget the way she said his name that night and whenever she spoke it again, it always sounded the same to him, whether spoken in joy or anger, it always sounded as if said in desperation. 

His head lulled from side to side as his father ran to the main desk where the receptionist talked in a calming voice while his father quickly rattled off a tale about young boys wondering in the woods and werewolves at the full moon. He handed his body over to a strong medic who reassured his father they would look after him, his mother clutched desperately at his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before his father pulled her back. The medics said they needed to be given sufficient space. As the medi-wizards took him through a partition to a bed he caught sight of his mother's tear streaked face with a hand holding up a red silk handkerchief to her eyes, his father putting his arm around her in comfort while Remus was carried to the other side, after that he fell unconscious.

He felt for the silk handkerchief in his pocket, it was shabby now, like his cloak and robes. He had taken it from his mother's vanity table after she had died, it was one of the only things he kept. He walked to the main reception.

"I'd like to see a Mr Bartholomew Crouch, please," he said clearly, fighting back the memories. It was so easy to remember everything here and get lost in the past. The receptionist nodded and tapped her wand on to a piece of parchment.

"You do realise," she said, "that he is in the Department of Soulless Bodies and therefore unresponsive?" 

"Yes," replied Remus.

"Reason for visiting?" she droned.

"He's an old acquaintance of mine," he lied easily, he had known the question was coming. When he had visited his mother they had asked the question every time, no matter how often he visited or how used to his face they became, the receptionists always acted as if they did not recognise his face. They somehow remained detached as if it were all a dream and that they didn't really see so many people die.

The receptionist nodded and gave him a reference number for Crouch's room along with a password and some directions he did not need. He walked to the room, not sure what to expect, surely if the spell worked there would have been some kind of headline in the _Daily Prophet_? Perhaps they were keeping it quiet or didn't check such stable patients regularly. 

When he got to the room there was only 10 minutes left of visiting time, he spoke the password clearly and the door creaked open. Their lying on a plain bed was the body of Crouch - just as soulless as after the Dementor had kissed it. It was at this point that Remus began to panic.

Miles away Hermione began screaming at Harry.

-=-

A/N: Ahh, the end of another chapter. I appear to have lost the comedy in this, sorry, I'll try and find it somehow. I'm painfully aware that I put a lot of unnecessary description in this, this was to avoid confusion over various aspects in the plot. Anyway, if you've read it then please **_review!_**, I'll try not to make the next chapter quite so wordy.


	6. Ex'or-c!sm

What Killed the Cat

Sixth Part

They arrived in a small group of only three. After all, it was just a child they were after. Robes of black and cloaks of an identical shade billowed about them, masks of ivory depicting twisted and demented faces. Two slits for eyes and some nose holes were incorporated into the design but no space for talking; Death Eaters didn't speak much to their victims. The "Make your last wish" of Hollywood was a glamorous alternative to the easily administered deaths they produced, of course the fact that they passed judgement with no hint of scruples didn't mean it was in any way _quick_. True, Avada Kedavra was used often by the clad-in-black followers, but it was the Cruciatus Curse which gave them the highest amount of their sadistic pleasure and often they gave a dose of it before using a simple - almost disrespectful - flick of their wand to send their victim into the next life. 

Neither of these things were used on the three teenagers who had been sitting on the vibrant green grass outside the Burrow. 

The Weasleys had not been careless. Death Eaters didn't drop in for tea-time visits, so why restrict the children to sitting inside on such a beautiful day? Of course, when Molly realised that young Hermione Granger had been kidnapped in her lovely garden while her youngest son and a boy, who she considered family in everything but birthright, were petrified under their very noses, it was all she could do to go outside to hang up the washing anymore. 

Hermione had just started to scream when they used expert spells to silence her and her friends. Harry and Ron were then hastily rendered useless while strong arms encircled Hermione in a vice like grip. If she could just reach her wand…

Before they disapparated, they waved with mocking vivacity to the shocked boys lying rigid on the ground. Soon after that the burrow was made Unplottable. 

She had known of course, expected it even, but not quite so _soon_. She closed her eyes against the blindfold, exchanging black for black. Then, slowly, light seemed to seep through her eyelids. From black to dark grey to concrete and then to white; a dazzling brilliance of white that made her eyes ache. Next, just as slowly, her senses seemed to numb as she no longer registered the tight ropes binding her to a chair and cutting off her circulation, the gag which restricted her from speaking out of turn and the rotten stench that filled her nostrils. Now she was in a soft bed, the smell of detergent stifling and yet a welcome change. She felt like she could breathe again, and yet she couldn't move. Nothing in the vision was tangible despite the definite sensation of it being real. She felt like she was in two places at once, two different beings trapped in the same casing. In a way, she was right. 

-=-

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I have to say yet!" replied Sirius indignantly, the slightest hint of a whine in his voice as he plonked down next to Remus on the four poster bed.

"I don't care, when you've got that look about you the only thing that's important is keeping alive," said Remus, eyes not leaving his Arithmancy textbook. He was using the extra time that was usually occupied with History of Magic to get ahead in his homework. _'Typical,'_ thought Sirius.

"I don't know what 'look' you're talking about, unless you're referring to my roguish charm - in which case I didn't know you cared," Remus looked up from his book and was met with a grin that was both smug and hopeful. When he said nothing Sirius took it as permission to plough on. His expression changed to one of concern; Remus was intrigued.

"I'm worried about Lily," Sirius said in a conspiratorially low tone, as if expecting the red-head to pop up at any minute from behind a bed in the middle of the _boys_ dorms. Although, considering James slept in the very same room it wasn't _entirely_ improbable. 

"Er…and why is that exactly?" Remus asked, Arithmancy abandoned. Sirius grimaced as if in great pain, could it be secret feelings harboured for the girl? But Remus quickly dismissed the thought, Sirius enjoyed his position as resident heart-throb too much to be bothered with something as trivial as love. Remus leaned in closer to try and get Sirius to resume the tale.

"Well, that is to say, um…" And now the boisterous boy was at a loss for words! Would wonders never cease? Perhaps the idea of Sirius and Lily wasn't so preposterous…

"Go on…" said Remus.

"Peter and I exorcised Professor Binns!" Sirius blurted, so quickly that it took a few seconds for Remus to process what he had said.

"What? That's the kind of thing that could get you _expelled!_" A moments pause in which Sirius sat looking only slightly guilty. And then, "Did it work?" questioned Remus in an excited whisper; it was a side of Remus that only his closest friends were privy to, while the rest of the world remained mystified by the Slytherin-esque stoicism. 

In truth he had a bit of every house in him - the hardworking Hufflepuff drove him to catch up after those day-long absences; the Ravenclaw hunt for knowledge that was sometimes hard to contain and finally the brave Gryffindor. You had to dig a little deeper to uncover it, but when you found it then you realised how valuable that core of strength was. To face a group of strangers who could easily find out _what_ he was and alienate him before they knew _who_ he was had been a terrifying prospect to the 11-year-old him, Hogwarts letter in hand, perhaps the fact he went through with it was what made the Sorting hat put him in Gryffindor.

"Well, at first we thought it did - we didn't see the old bugger for days, but something happened while we were doing the spell." Sirius looked up, "Lily walked in."

"And…" Probed Remus, much like a small child at story-time.

"She didn't know what we were doing so we didn't lose house points or anything, it's just I think she might have had an unexpected effect on the spell…I think she might be possessed by Professor Binns." Sirius said it with such utter conviction that Remus in no way doubted his belief not to mention that neither Sirius nor Peter were the world's most efficient spell casters.

"Why didn't you get me or James to help?"

Sirius snorted. "James? He'd tell us we were mad, he's perfectly happy with the pranks most of the time, but to even think about harming a teacher is, to him, complete sacrilege! And you were, you know, _away_ that day." 

Of course, it would come down to that. "Are you _sure_?" Remus asked. Sirius nodded evasively, muttering something about Lily reeling off dates randomly. "Then I think you should go to Dumbledore." Sirius nodded again.

And Dumbledore's eye's had crinkled with mirth when he'd heard the tale, immediately ridding Lily of the presence of a ghost inside of her before telling them sternly that if they ever tried something so dangerous again they'd be straight out of the school with no return-ticket, just as he had said the time before, and the time before that…

Everything had been alright in the end. He wished he could say the same for this time. He'd taken it all in without comment when he arrived home; death-eaters, Hermione, the Burrow. There was no way of knowing for certain, he was still putting two and two together, but never had he been so certain the answer was four. Why couldn't Sirius have just had a trial?

-=-

Something inside of him wanted to save her, some irrational part of him that could be neither silenced by his master's Cruciatus Curse nor bought with the silver hand. She was the same and different at once, as if two faces flickered before him - one new and one old. He knew what he had to do, remembered the spell from a trip to Dumbledore's office after an attempted exorcism. 

An attempted exorcism with Sirius.

With his friend.

Of course, if he did let the girl go, it could easily be labelled a blunder. 'Accidents' happened regularly, part of him thought his Lord gave him extra duties to watch and _enjoy_ seeing him fail, because with failure came punishment. He shivered involuntarily. The small voice - perhaps the only shred of morality left in his body - seemed momentarily silenced before it resumed its steady buzz. Slowly, meticulously, he cut through the rope. It was only when he'd finished freeing her from the restraints that he decided what he was going to do. 

-=-

A/N: Thanks to the lovely reviewers (aww, how fabby are you!) So, managed to get some humour in it, we are nearing the end - promise! Anyway, if you've read it then please **_review! _**


	7. Endings

What Killed the Cat

Final Part

After he cast the spell, Peter told her the plan, driven by the debt that had hung over him ever since the Shrieking Shack incident. In a hushed whisper he ran through what she had to do, where to hide and when to run. Hermione had understood perfectly, but when it came to doing it - fleeing from a group of Death Eaters - a horrible heaviness settled in her stomach. Peter thought it was a combination of planning, luck and Gryffindor courage that got her through. The fact that he was momentarily 'inattentive' towards his prisoner helped. In truth, there was another Death Eater who's turning a blind eye assisted her greatly; from that point on, Hermione vowed never to raid Snape's store cupboard. 

-=-

__

In the summer of 1995, nurses at St. Mungo's hurried to the Department of Soulless Bodies as an ear-splitting scream echoed down the halls. When they found the source of the cry, they were amazed to see Barty Crouch Jr., a victim of the Dementor's Kiss, staring with wide, responsive_ eyes. It was both a medical and magical mystery. _

Staff at St. Mungo's were baffled and, for a while, tempted to keep the story secret. But one as strange and unexplainable as the Crouch story leaked quickly. Soon, the Minister of Magic himself was involved. In the weeks that followed, Cornelius Fudge was given a lot of opposing advice. While some called for Crouch to be put back into Azkaban, others said it was more important to see how he had got his soul back. Minister Fudge, who still upheld his opinion of Crouch as "stark raving mad", was assaulted by voices, all telling him to do different things. But one voice stood out. When Albus Dumbledore says something, people take notice. 

And so, medi-wizards were asked to give their opinion on Crouch's sanity. When what he said was classed as credible (to the horror of Minister Fudge) he was called forward to speak. It seemed the entire magical world listened to the Veritaserum on his breath. The Daily Prophet_ dedicated almost an entire issue to it. And, of course, it raised countless questions. Sirius Black was called to trial, as it emerged that one of the men he was accused of killing was still alive. There wasn't a Ministry official in all of Britain who didn't blush at this. It hadn't been one of the justice systems' finer moments._

~ An excerpt from "A Concise History of Dementors" by Professor Remus Lupin, published 2005

-=-

Times were dark, everyone knew it. But somehow they made it through, found the time between long working days to listen to Quidditch matches on the wireless and gather together at the Burrow for some of Molly Weasley's delicious home cooked food. That evening, Harry sat proudly next to his Godfather, who was trying his hardest to eat instead of shovel food. 

Remus wondered whether the price for Sirius' freedom had been a little too high. On the one hand, people were aware that the Dark Lord had returned, leaving the way clear for allies to be made and a resistance to be built up, and Sirius was a free man. On the other, Crouch had escaped days after Sirius was cleared. Voldemort was reunited with one of his most loyal supporters. 

Remus glanced around the table. Smiling faces surrounded him, enjoying the food and company. Snippets of conversation reached his ear. How the Chudley Cannons were doing in the Quidditch League, the latest song by Celestina Warbeck and Bill Weasley's ponytail were all up for discussion. Maybe this was what would give them the edge, their sense of togetherness. Moments later he stopped thinking about it.

"Pass the peas, please, Moony."

-=-

A/N: Yes, an unbelievably cheesy ending, I know. So, I finally wrote it. Still not happy with this, but at the very least it is done. Thanks to all the fabby reviewers. I hope you enjoyed reading this more than I did writing it, but most of all I hope you'll **_review!_**


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